Cross Fit Critique

I am not athletic.  In the least.

The athlete genes--which are decent in my family--completely skipped over me.

Math was my most dreaded subject in school all the way through college, but P.E. ran a neck-and-neck second.

I was always picked last for kickball (because I was either: 1--the biggest dork in my class, 2--the worst player in my class, or 3--both).  I could never climb that big rope all the way to the ceiling, do a chin-up, hit a baseball, manage an overhand volleyball serve, or do that weird backward thing over the high jump.  I remember the unit on weight lifting in eighth grade.  I couldn't even bench-press the bar.  And let's face it.  There's a pecking order in gym class and it sucks to be at the bottom.  Kids are mean.

Fast-forward to adulthood.  My love for cheesecake and copious amounts of guacamole and chips, combined with growing four human beings over the course of a decade, forced me to re-evaluate physical exercise.

But the scars are still there.  I prefer workouts to be solo.  I can put one foot in front of the other, so I do run some.  I will make a fool of myself in my basement in front of my TV, because although I can see Jillian Michaels, she can't see me.

I first heard about Cross Fit from my friend, Jamie, last September.  She started raving about this wonderful program she had found that focused on making you Strong.  Healthy.  Fit.

I was immediately interested.  See, I'm not strong.  I have a decent amount of endurance, but I'm not strong.  And I'd like to be.  My first question was, "Cool!  Can I do it at my house?"

Um. No.

Then Jamie started talking about the stuff they do.  She used words and phrases like "gym rings" and "Olympic lifts" and "as many as you can in one minute."  I started to have Presidential Physical Fitness Award flashbacks.  I may have even started shaking.  I wrote it off immediately.

Cross Fit:  Not. For. Me.

Six months later, somehow this same friend, plus eating a Paleo diet, plus a blog of a friend from high school who can now do a chin-up all by herself (and looks so good that except for the fashion choices and the two kids that are with her, I can't whether her Facebook photos are current or from 1991),  convinced me to try Cross Fit.  I dragged Better Half into this with me mostly because I figured since he's my husband he's obligated to take down anyone who makes fun of me, but also because this kind of thing is right up his alley (He is actually athletic).

Yesterday I went to my  first class.  Solo.  Better Half begged off using the tired, but ever effective "early work meeting" excuse.

And honestly?  A lot of it took me right back to junior high P.E., complete with the teacher who is a football coach?  Was a football coach?  Likes football?  (sorry...it was 5:15am, so my recollection of his credentials is a little bit fuzzy.) I didn't know what I was doing.  I had to do fewer, lighter, slower, or even "completely different" than everyone else.

But there was one huge difference:

There was no pecking order.

Everyone was so very nice and encouraging and helpful.

There are some really great things about being an adult, and one of them is that you can walk into a room where you still can't do a chin up without some rubber band thing that practically bungees you back up to the bar each time, and people don't make fun of you.  In fact, they tell you how great you did.

And even though I did fewer, lighter, slower, and "completely different" than everyone else, I'm still so sore today, that I can't get undressed without assistance.

And this fact alone, my friends, makes Better Half a HUGE fan of the start my Cross Fit adventure. :o)

So I guess I'll go back on Monday.